


And So the Fairytale Ends

by MissILikeTooManyFandoms



Series: Twisted [1]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissILikeTooManyFandoms/pseuds/MissILikeTooManyFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla finds herself watching Laura's latest upload.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So the Fairytale Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Laura's lines really hit me and so naturally, I wrote this.

“Go to bed, Laura.”

“Sorry, Carm, you don’t get a say anymore. What do you care anyway?”

“You’ve been staring at those documents blankly for the past half hour, just give it a rest. You and the Scooby Gang can figure it out tomorrow. This is still my room, you know.” The words burned the back of her throat, but not as much as the look in Laura’s eyes, the hurt and the anger.

“Whatever.” With a huff, Laura marched past Carmilla and up the stairs, but not before throwing, “Have fun brooding in the dark,” over her shoulder. The vampire had half a mind to follow her and demand that she vacate the bed that was rightfully hers but she did not have the energy and the thought of sleeping in the bed she had shared with Laura for so many weeks was enough to make her sick. She would settle for the chaise. It held just as many now painful memories in its leather, but at least she would not stretch out and ache to touch a body absent from beside her. She eyed the piece of furniture with longing, her heart and bones tired from all that had transpired, but she refused to sleep. Carmilla had adjusted her sleep schedule in the past few weeks so she could keep up with her little human but now the effort was moot.

Growling at herself and her drooping eyes, the vampire threw herself down in front of Laura’s laptop, angrily clicking at the latest video. She had not watched one of the videos since the night she had died again, but she had spotted the red light when she had returned and though she usually cared little for the budding journalists videos, she found an ache somewhere in her heart that called to watch it or perhaps a sudden masochistic urge. She hesitated when the video finally loaded on Laura’s practically ancient slab of technology, but with a deep breath, she pressed play.

She did not make it past the third minute.

She had known she was right about what Laura thought, she would not have broken her own heart if she was not certain, but it was different to hear it all from Laura in one sitting. She was just another story, something to amuse Laura until the next fairytale came along. She did not fit Laura’s cast and so now it was over. She had not played her part right, had not followed whatever ridiculous script Laura had written in her head. She knew it should bother her more that Laura had called her a monster, that she had essentially made her a twisted Beast and cast herself as Belle. Maybe she should have seen it when she had been forced to watch that awful film.

Instead, “and I’m not even saying that I loved her because we were only together for like a month and that would be crazy” was repeating itself over and over inside her skull. She was not sure what hurt most, hearing verbatim what she had feared since Mattie had introduced the wretched word to the apartment, or that Laura had said “loved.” If she had ever loved Carmilla, it was firmly in the past. As with everything with Laura, it was black and white. She had ended things and so naturally Laura thought that she no longer loved her, as if it had not completely torn Carmilla apart to do so and had only acted in an effort save her sanity. She laughed quietly to herself. If Laura had ever loved her, she did not know and if this was some sort of twisted confession of love, she had already missed it. Regardless, she found herself in the same place as before, hopelessly loving Laura.

Her finger trembled above the mousepad. Part of her had to know what the rest of the video contained but the rest of her, the selfish, more dominant aspect of her being, had been hurt enough and could withstand no more. She did not want to be a part of this story either. She was already the villain, she did not need the hero’s monologue.

“Carm? What are you doing?” She had been so engrossed in the shouting match ringing in her head that she had missed the telltale steps of Laura down the stairs.

“Nothing, shortstack. You left your Snape/Ron fic up again.” She stood and brushed past the clearly exhausted crusader, refusing to take in her ruffled hair and half closed eyes. She did not bother closing out of the video. A sick part of her wanted Laura to know that she knew, that she had been proven right. She nearly ran from the room, refusing to let Laura take another piece of herself. Her tears were the only thing she had left anymore that were hers and hers alone.

She had not gotten far before she could hear a startled, broken gasp, surely followed by tears behind her. Her steps stuttered but she kept moving, winding down the cellar stairs and seeking the deepest, darkest corner of the tunnels that ran beneath the apartment. At one time, she had every twist and turn memorized, using the knowledge to her advantage as she teased her victims, luring them further into her dangerous web, but now, gaze blurry with tears, she was lucky not to run straight into the stone walls. After what felt like an endless circuit, she found herself beneath the trapdoor that led to the sitting room. In what had to be yet another masochistic impulse, she did not sprint immediately away, though her entire being rippled, aching to run and to be set free, but instead listened for any evidence of Laura above. She could not even hear a heartbeat.

She returned to the sitting room, having forgone the trapdoor and wound her way back through the tunnels in an effort to calm her racing mind, but to no avail. She noticed for the first time the sheer amount of junk food near the laptop, including a pie server and a decimated carton of ice cream. She did not allow herself to consider the ramifications or reason for their existence but she did notice Laura’s discarded cardigan beneath the table. She glanced around self-consciously, though she knew no one was lurking nearby, before bending down and quickly snatching up the bunny covered fabric. Before she could really consider what she was doing, she curled up on the chaise, using the cardigan as a makeshift pillow, her nose buried in the itchy material.

As her eyes closed, Carmilla found that she did not care if Laura found her like this in the morning. Sure, the vampire had pride, but she would allow herself this weakness, just this once.


End file.
